Approaching Sin in the House of God
by Misery Loves Sarah
Summary: My entry for the Diehard Challenge: Non-verbal.


**Okay, here is my Diehard challenge piece. I don't really like it myself, but I hope that any of you who read it will.**

**I don't own Sanctuary…obviously. (Those of you who have read my WWDD rants will know what I mean by that.)**

**Approaching Sin in the House of God**

Their relationship had begun with a chase and now that's all it consisted of. The thought alone was enough to make John Druitt chuckle as he ducked into the cathedral. Helen, of course, had approached him first. Then, when he craved her company like a drug, she made him work for the privilege to bask in her glow. Not that he minded in the least. He was a man who liked a challenge. It made the outcome so much sweeter…and Helen was sweet. At least, when she wasn't trying to kill him. He smirked again.

He silently slipped into the confessional. It was as good a place to hide as any. Not that he needed to hide, but the game was fun…and he'd had so little _real_ sport of late.

Soft strains of music broke him from his thoughts. High-pitched voices harmonized as a group of boys added a new piece to their choral repertoire.

'_O for the wings, for the wings of a dove!'_

'Oh what perfect timing.' John thought with a scoff as the church choir really began to sing. 'Is this simply voice practice or perhaps divine intervention to lead me from my wicked ways.'

'_Far away, far away would I rove!'_

The irony was not lost on John. He did not need wings to rove. He could leave any time he wanted, but he chose to stay. Or, the darker part of him chose to stay. There was so much more to work with here. Helen was here to torment and there was an endless supply of his chosen victims.

'_In the wilderness build me a nest,'_

A nest indeed. That was what he needed, and a wife and his child. Sounded uncomplicated, but in practice proved too much for him to accomplish. Perhaps if they had gone far away things could have been different. Or, maybe not.

'_and remain there for ever at rest.'_

Rest. Now there was a novelty that he had not encountered in a while. He was too wicked and his Helen was too determined.

He could not help, but laugh at the ridiculousness of his thoughts. These words were not about guiding him, they weren't meant for him, and he would never find the peace that they were about.

A rustling in the compartment next to his let him know he was about to be subjected to a dose of priestly absolution. Glancing outside the confessional he saw Helen standing near the entrance of the sanctuary. She was beautiful with a harden look about her. Of course he could just be thinking of the pistol she carried concealed on her person. Loaded weapons often made people appear more dangerous than usual. He wasn't supposed to know she had it, he was certain, as it was meant for him. Helen would afford him no escape unless he killed her. Still, she was lovely…

…He had to stop that thought now. He wouldn't hurt her. Not HER!

He looked through the screen to see the stuffy little Catholic man, and never having seen eye to eye with the religion, decided to leave before he was drawn into the process.

"Forgive me father, but my sins are my own and I fear that now I am nothing without them." Hearing a gasp and smiling, Druitt was gone in a flash of light.

**Sanctuary**

John wandered for a while. The longer he did so, the closer he knew Helen would be to finding him again. The woman had no sense of self preservation and he unfortunately could do little to protect her from himself. He was still running on blood lust from the near run-in. An outlet was what he needed. Looking about, he teleported himself to his favorite hunting grounds.

The sounds of the Whitechapel district were always disturbingly pervasive. In an attempt to block them out he hummed the first tune that came to mind. The one from the church choir.

_O for the wings, for the wings of a dove!Far away, far away would I rove!In the wilderness build me a nest,and remain there for ever at rest._

Down the street, a little way, he saw a blonde woman. He recognized her from previous visits. She would do nicely. He flashed into position and was once again silent. As…Molly, that was her name, approached he found himself thinking again of Helen. At least this wasn't her. That's what he told himself and the part of him that still cared about right from wrong was not appeased. He ignored that part of himself for the moment. That was the same part that would not allow him to hurt Helen. It was always a battle. Listen to his conscience when it came to her, but never anybody else. The rest of the world was fair game.

"Still at it, Molly?" He said as the Ripper glided from the shadows…

**Okay, well if you don't recognize that last line, it was from the first episode and it was the Whitechapel flashback where Helen shot John. **

**Just to clear the air, no I don't think it was okay that John killed a bunch of prostitutes, even if it was (my thoughts on why) to protect Helen from himself. It's just what I guessed his thought processes might be. Oh and it's my story so I'll do what I want. HAHA. Oh yeah, I didn't have time to have this properly beta'd because I had to get it up tonight or not at all, so I used an online grammar checker. Hope that's okay and it's readable. G'night all.**


End file.
